


Emptiness

by Kaithewolfgirl



Category: Steve Jackson's Sorcery! - Steve Jackson
Genre: Dream Sequence, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I haven't played 4 yet so I probably got some details wrong. eh, Nightmares, sorcery 2 and 3 spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:42:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24432292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaithewolfgirl/pseuds/Kaithewolfgirl
Summary: The Analander has returned the crown of kings with the help of Flanker, the assassin. But even after several days of celebration, things don't feel like they've gone back to normal.
Relationships: Flanker/F!Analander
Kudos: 6





	Emptiness

Finally. Even after being sent back in time, via what she later found out was with use of the Zed curse, the Analander approached Khare’s north gate. The Goblins. They were coming. A drip of cold sweat ran down the Analander’s back.  
She recited the spell order with confidence and the mighty gate swung open. Prepared to leave Khare behind, the Analander stepped forth. She was met by the howls of wolves, the stench of wet fur and stale blood. A large white wolf leapt forward and knocked the wind out of her. 

The Analander cried out in pain as she hit the ground, winded.  
She tried to get to her feet but she found herself face to face with Vik. Her hands were in his wolves' mouths. Teeth cut into her hands, the sickly warmth of the beast's breath on her palms.  
“You call yourself a hero, but you are no better than the archmage!” he boomed. “It was you who destroyed the ancient world! You murdered thousands! Entire cities were felled by your hand!”

The Analander raised her voice to protest, but a wolf clamped its jaws to her mouth. She screamed and shouted, but her voice was swallowed by the beast’s fetid maw.  
Her throat tightened under the weight of a large serpent, which split into seven smaller serpents. Rotting, mushroom covered hands reached out from beneath her and started pulling her into the dirt.   
“You failed to kill the water serpent, so I killed the assassin you are so fond of!” sneered the sorceress Fenestra from beside her.  
She got Flanker!?  
The Analander struggled as the breath was squeezed out of her lungs.  
She woke with a start, sweat on her forehead. She laid there, chest heaving, for several minutes while she tried to catch her breath. Goosebumps pricked her skin, and she felt mildly nauseous.  
“I’m safe, I’m safe in the castle, I’m not on the road anymore.” She whispered to herself several times over as a mantra. “It’s been several days since I returned to Analand.” Doing this made her realize her mouth was bone dry.  
Her muscles stiff from having jerked awake, she gingerly started moving around.  
She found her feet to be tangled in the blankets of her large palace bed.  
Blankets, not serpents.  
The serpents where dead. Khare stood, albeit under the tyranny of Vik the slaver. It was the goblins that intended to take it over. They had failed because she had killed them all with the magic of the gate. But the ancient world was no more. That was the Archmage’s doing, she told herself. Even with the beacons, he began its temporal disintegration. The sorceress had been nothing but an ally to her. She had a serpent sealed away, a job that was carried out by Flanker.  
Flanker.

The Analander detangled herself from her bedsheets and swung her feet onto the cold stone floor of her bedroom. The fireplace on the other side of the room had burnt down to coals but provided some warmth.  
She started at the glint next to it but quickly realized it was simply the reflection of the dying fire upon her longsword. Just light reflecting on her sword, not werewolf eyes or armour.  
Quietly, the Analander lit the candle by her bedside and padded outside of her room.  
Carpet scratched the soles of her feet as she quietly snuck down the castle corridor. The cold night air made her entire body convulse with shivers. She moved quickly, fearing that something would lunge out of her from the dark.  
“There’s nothing there, there’s nothing there. I’m not in the wilderness.”  
After several minutes of nothing but the company of her pounding heart, she found Flankers' room.  
With a click, she pulled the wooden door open and peered inside.

Flanker was curled up in a pile of blankets, in a way that reminded her of a cat. She stood there for several long minutes, watching the rise and fall of his chest in the light of her candle.  
Flanker was alive.  
Here he was in front of her.  
She turned to return to her bed. Back she went down the carpeted corridor, the only warmth being from the candle she held by her chest. Her body continued to tremble.

“Love”?  
The Analander gasped sharply and nearly dropped her candle. She had taken not even three steps before Flanker appeared behind her shoulder.  
She didn’t honestly believe she could sneak up on Flanker, but her nightmare had put her nerves on edge.  
She turned around to face him.  
“I-I’m sorry.” She whispered. “I didn’t mean to wake you.” The Analander whispered.  
“It’s alright. Is something the matter?” Flanker raised his hand and brushed her cheek.  
“I’m fine.”  
Flanker surveyed her for a moment. He then motioned for her to follow and disappeared back inside his room.  
He perched on the edge of the goose feather mattress and motioned for the Analander to sit next to him.  
“Bad dreams?” he asked her.  
She nodded.  
They sat in silence for a while. As her heart stopped pounding and her breathing slowed, the Analander became acutely aware of a lump in her throat.  
She opened her mouth to speak but felt the lump burn.  
She would rather not cry in front of Flanker if she could help it. She turned her head away from him.  
Despite herself, she could feel her muscles tense up and shiver.

Flanker must have sensed this too because she found his large hand rubbing her back. The warmth she felt through her undershirt was nice. The motion was soothing, but it made her chest prickle.  
What had come over her? She hadn’t had a nightmare this bad for as long as she could remember. Not even on the nights where she really was in the thick of danger.  
She shut her eyes tight and dug nails into her palms.  
Having Flankers' attention did nothing but make the urge to cry worse. Tears welled up behind her eyes and she could not stop it. She felt heat and dampness on her cheeks, tasted salt in her mouth.  
“Analander…”  
She had been through far worse than a simple nightmare without shedding tears. She was no stranger to stress dreams, but they could be shaken off and forgotten. She didn’t understand why it had to be now.  
Flanker pulled her in closer and put his arm around her waist. The motion made her stomach flop. It was comforting but just made her want to cry more.  
She didn’t recall being held like this since her girlhood. When her apprenticeship started in her teenage years, she simply hadn’t had time for sadness. There was difficulty, and there was leaving her beloved childhood home, but the only way had always been forward. Even in Khare, surrounded by thugs or outside Manpang, when she was confronted with the destruction of the ancient world. Even during her travels in the baklands, with only dust and the archmage’s serpents to keep her company. Looking back on it, perhaps she had been too exhausted by travel to feel anything besides the dull ache of worry.  
Despite herself, she leaned in closer to Flanker. It felt silly to her. It was embarrassing, being this needy.  
“I-“She sniffed. “Flanker, I-”  
Another sob wracked her chest.  
“Don’t feel like you need to talk.” Flanker murmured. “I’ve never felt the need to fill these types of silences.  
His shoulder was surprisingly comfortable.  
Long but deft fingers brushed her scalp. It tickled slightly, and a warming sensation enveloped her stomach.  
Flanker leaned his head toward her. With him this close, she caught the scent of his hair. Woody, with a slight hint of metal. Long hair that was usually tied up and kept under his head covering.  
The tears just kept coming. She wished it would stop.  
The Analander lost track of time. She sat there with Flanker for what seemed like hours. Finally, the tears subsided and she was left with nothing but a small headache and exhaustion.  
She looked up at flanker with puffy, bloodshot eyes. It occurred to her that she still wasn’t used to seeing Flanker’s uncovered face. His dark red eyes, usually cold, had a softness to them she didn’t think she had seen before.  
“Do you mind if I stay?” She whispered to him.  
“Stay as long as you like.” Flanker replied.  
Like the night they camped together in Manpang, Flanker lay down on his bed with the Analander next to him.  
When she was confident he was asleep, she reached out and took his hand. It did not take long for her to be claimed by a dreamless sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Had the idea for this while trying to do a NBAS run late at night and being struck by how alone you feel traversing the baklands.
> 
> thanks to Turduckenail for proofreading and providing suggestions :)


End file.
